


'oh'

by weirdoqueen



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weirdoqueen/pseuds/weirdoqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As one shot-y as one shots can be: the new recruit is a little too enthusiastic about getting to know her Warden mentor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'oh'

It was the night before they had arrived in Ostagar, she remembered. It had been a bit warmer than usual so they spent a little bit more time by the fire, the time ticking by as they stared into the flames, as their eyes flicked to the other’s face, watching light dance upon their cheekbones.

Collarbones.

He spoke to her, about how he’d once tried to recruit her mother but alas, her village needed her. More importantly—and, coincidentally, less spoken of—young Adaia was with child, and that certainly would not do for a new recruit. But, there was no Blight, and no dire need of Wardens, so Duncan felt no guilt when he moved on.

“You knew my mother, then?” she asked, voice low and smooth, heavy with sleep—but only to the untrained ear. Unfortunately, his ears did not meet the qualifications for trained. She shifted her legs, wrapping her arms around her knees and laying her cheek upon them. Her gaze moved to watch him, green eyes dancing with orange glimmer, lowered lids darkened with a smudge of kohl.

His brow crinkled—hadn’t he just spent an entire half-hour discussing his encounter with her mother, with her alienage? But he brushed it off, chalking the remark up to her apparent drowse. He feared he would have to help her to her tent—well, fear was perhaps not the proper word, but it sufficed, he thought.

“I did know your mother, yes,” he replied. Just the sound of his voice, as tan and leather as was his skin, made her lips widen into a smile for just that much of an instant.

“What was she like?” she murmured, eyes fluttering closed. His volume lowered with her lids, though he did not immediately speak. For a moment he sat there, fingertips in the silk scruff of his beard, hazel eyes watching the embers as they twinkled, mirroring the stars in the clear night above.

“She was…” His hand fell from his chin and his eyes focused on her, crinkling, smiling. “Like you, Xan’Thia. She was beautiful, she was charming, daring…”

She made a sound of content.

“You flatter me, ser,” she mumbled, voice very thick with sleep. She then promptly fell backwards, sprawled out on the ground.

Duncan chuckled lightly. “I think I ought to see you off to bed, my lady,” he said, standing up only to crouch by her side as he moved to take her into his arms.

She was too fast for him, however—she swiped her leg under his ankles and he fell onto his back with a slight thud, eyes wide.

“What makes you say that?” she purred, sweeping stray strands of auburn hair behind an ear once she had straddled him.

“What are y—”

“Shh,” she crooned, a thumb gently pressed to his lips. “And please, love—call me Xan.”

His hands gripped her waist in order to pry her off, but for a small elven woman, she had a fearsome grip.

She rolled her eyes at him, but there was sincerity in her tone when she asked, “Would you rather I didn’t?”

He was still, just blinking at her, mouth slightly agape. She waited for him to speak, but the only sounds they heard were the hiss of the dying flames and the wind rustling the trees not far away.

She shrugged. “Good enough for me. Now then, how to get you out of this armor…” She removed the belts and sashes around his hips, then dug her fingers into the still fabric-covered flesh at his hips, and he practically choked. She raised a brow. She wiggled her fingers just slightly, and he grunted, shifting to try and move away from her touch.

She grinned. “Ticklish, hm? I’ll be careful, I promise.” Sincere as her promise may have been, she truly could not figure out his armor, leading to much squirming on his part.

“Maker, plate I understand, but _this_?” she muttered. Finally, he gripped her wrists and she blinked at him and he gently removed her from his lap and removed his own armor, leaving his smalls.

She looked him up and down, smirking. “Modest, hm?” She crept over to him, smoothing her palm over his groin. “You’re not even bent,” she pouted. She glanced up at him, biting at the inside of her cheek. “But you are a quiet one,” she murmured. She stood, her head hardly passing his chest. Her fingers curled into the hair on his chest as she looked up at him.

He smiled slightly. For just an instant, he saw Adaia’s hazel in Xan’s green eyes, and he brushed a few stray hairs from her face in the hopes that he might see that flash again.

His hand slipped to her shoulder, thumbing a strap of her armor. She placed her own hand there, undoing one strap, then the other, and another, until she too stood in only her smalls.

“…So. You gonna get back down now, or what?”

He chuckled as he complied.

“Just like your m—mmh!” She crushed him with her body, her kiss, legs straddling his navel, else she wouldn’t be able to reach his mouth. She rocked against him and he almost instantaneously wrapped his arms tightly around her lithe frame, one hand buried in her short hair, the other thumbing the ridge of her scapula. His hips bucked as she scratched down his chest.

She sat up, freeing herself from his grip. He watched her, chest heaving with hard breath, as she sat beside his hips, lifting his smalls over his shaft with a smug grin. One of his hands rested on his abdomen, on the spot of warmth that her groin had left and his toes curled as her saliva-lathered hand cupped his balls before skimming up his length. He let out a strangled moan, then a choked breath as she gripped him and took a slow rhythm, squeezing his shaft as she moved. He watched her, wide-eyed, as her lips kissed the head of his cock, then parted to take just the tip into her mouth, hands moving slightly faster than before. She moaned softly as his hand knotted into her hair, her heavy-lidded gaze fixing on his as her tongue repetitively flicked at the underside of his shaft. He growled out a breath and she let out a low chuckle. She ran her teeth over him and he tensed, bucking away from her.

She grinned wickedly, removing her breastband and smalls and crawling up to kiss him again. His hands gripped her ass, squeezing at her flesh, one palm dealing a rather hard smack as the other slid between her cheeks to slide over her heat. She let out a slight yelp at the impact of his hand against her skin, a sound that was muffled due to his teeth pulling at her bottom lip. But, she broke into a pleased grin and returned to him as his fingers found their way into her, his other hand wrapping around his shaft and pulling towards her.

She soon batted his hands away, then rose on top of him, straddled him, reached between her legs to guide him into her. She let out a whimper as she did so—she was used to elves, after all, and he was Rivaini. Even in her alienage, she’d heard the rumors about the dark-skinned ladies’ bosoms and the men’s laps.

He took a firm hold of her hips as she moved, as she grinded against him, back arching, her skin colored silver, blue, and orange from the simultaneous dearth and bounty of light given by the fire and night. He propped himself up on an elbow, his hand gliding up her torso to grip the back of her head and bring her back down to him. She made a small sound of surprise, then muttered a feeble “Oh” as he began to pound into her. Her hand tugged at his hair, pulling it out of its thong and knotting into it once it was freed. Her lips were at his ear, biting his lobe to muffle the moans that crept from her lungs.

With a hiss, she dug her nails into his chest and shoved him back to the ground. She gingerly lifted herself from him, and he once more propped himself up just to watch her rub his shaft against her ass. He let out a low hum, then reached his hand towards her and snagged her on his fingertip and he had to try not to smirk when he heard her swear under her breath.

He curled over her, bending her down, her face hovering at the edge of the dying embers. She let out a shivered whine, looking back at him as he managed to slide his whole length into her. He slid one hand down her length to pull at her mons, fully exposing her clit. He grinded against her, and her fingers dug into the soot and her toes curled into the air and he bit at her shoulder as his pace quickened. It didn’t take long for her muscles to clench and rivets of beautiful sensation to streak through her limbs until finally they—

“Um. Xan?”

She bolted upright, looking around, until finally she focused on Alistair’s face.

“Are you… all right?” Judging by the blush on his face, he very well knew she was more than all right.

“Oh! I’m, uh. Fine, Alistair. Thanks.” She could feel the warmth in her already hot cheeks growing further.

He didn’t say anything—just pursed his lips and glanced over her before rolling over and continuing his slumber. She too sighed, and settled down onto her bedroll, remarking that Morrigan was indeed wise to have made her camp so far from theirs.

But, as she closed her eyes once more, she grumbled, “And I didn’t even get to finish.”


End file.
